Fire Bringer

by David Clement-Davies

  ‘But if he’s. . .’

  ‘At least we shall get to talk to him,’ said Willow.

  At last the others relented. It was set for the next sun’s Larn and they agreed to meet just before. They were all desperately nervous but each, apart from Bracken, had their part to play in the plan and concentrating on what they had to do at least helped stop them from succumbing to fear.

  ‘Right,’ said Willow as the evening star began to glow in the sky. ’Birrmagnur, you’re to lead; Peppa and I will come later when Bankfoot—’

  But Willow suddenly stopped talking. Ten stags were coming in their direction.

  They dipped their antlers as they approached.

  ‘Herne has summoned you,’ said the leading stag gravely.

  ‘All of you are to come.’

  Before they had even had a chance to put their plan into action, the friends found themselves being led up the hill towards Rannoch. When Willow caught sight of him standing there in the shadow of the birch trees, next to Kaal and a guard of scouts, she leapt ahead.

  ‘Rannoch,’ she cried, ‘are you all right? We’ve been so worried. We couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t let us see you and—’

  ‘Silence,’ cried Rannoch, suddenly pawing the ground. Willow looked back in amazement.

  ‘Rannoch, it’s me, Willow.’

  Rannoch’s eyes seemed to stare straight through the hind. Bankfoot, Thistle, Tain and Birrmagnur came up and Peppa stood at the back with Bracken, who was trembling violently and kept looking at Rannoch warily. Bankfoot noticed that the ground where Rannoch was standing was strewn with the berries and fungi they had been collecting in the Slave Herd.

  ‘Rannoch, it’s good to see you again,’ said Birrmagnur calmly.

  ‘You risk your lives,’ said Rannoch coldly, ‘talking to me thus.’

  Now Kaal stepped forward. His eyes were as red as the river.

  ‘You will bow your heads when you address Herne,’ he bellowed. ‘You are in the presence of a god.’

  ‘Rannoch, p-p-please,’ said Bankfoot, ‘have you forgotten your friends?’

  Rannoch blinked at them as though struggling with some distant memory.

  ‘I remember you from my dreams,’ he said at last in an empty voice. ‘But I have passed through the kingdom of the dead, to a place none of you may visit. The Prophecy is fulfilled. Do you not see this mark?’

  ‘A fawn mark. Just a fawn mark. That’s what you always said,’ cried Willow. ‘Don’t you remember, Rannoch?’

  ‘For too long I have been trying to fool myself,’ said Rannoch. ‘You know the Prophecy. Then shall Herne be justly woken. Well, Herne has woken. Among His own.’

  ‘But Rannoch,’ said Willow.

  ‘Enough. Now you must go from this place. Go north. Go south. Only go. You and all those who are not true Hernling.’

  Rannoch snorted, as though in disgust, but as he spoke Birrmagnur fancied he saw Rannoch’s eyes clear, just for a moment. When Rannoch spoke again, however, as coldly as before, the reindeer realized he must have been mistaken.

  ‘Hurry, I am weary of you,’ said Rannoch. But now Bankfoot stepped forward.

  ‘N-n-no,’ he said, ‘I can’t believe it. After all we have been through. This isn’t you, Rannoch. They have done something to you. It wasn’t you I saw among those st-st-stones.’

  As soon as Bankfoot said it, he knew he had made a grave mistake.

  ‘What’s this?’ cried Kaal, tossing up his antlers, his eyes flaring. ‘He has seen the rite. It is sacrilege.’

  Rannoch looked to the stags and for just a moment he seemed to hesitate.

  ‘Take him,’ he cried suddenly.

  Before Bankfoot could do anything he was surrounded.

  ‘No,’ cried Willow.

  The hind was frantic now and as one of the guards approaching Bankfoot passed behind her, she let out a vicious kick with her back legs. It caught the stag full in the side and he bellowed in pain. He swung his antlers down, scything at her soft flanks but Willow jumped backwards.

  ‘Run, Bankfoot,’ cried Willow. ‘Run.’

  Bankfoot leapt forward, but as he did so the stags closed. His way was barred. Now Thistle, Tain and Birrmagnur had dropped their heads and all of them were fighting. The air was suddenly shattered with the clatter of jousting antlers. Though Thistle and Tain fought hard, Birrmagnur fared the best for the stags were unused to the reindeer’s strange, looping antlers and could not get a purchase on their curved points. Birrmagnur was soon in the centre of the melee, scything angrily about him, slashing at the assaulting guards and inflicting heavy damage.

  But it was hopeless. As soon as Willow cried out and the fight began, the whole herd had been roused and now they raced to defend their god. In no time at all the friends were completely outnumbered and a wall of stags had stepped between them and Bankfoot. The friends backed off, Tain’s face bleeding badly and Thistle pawing at the earth.

  ‘You,’ said Rannoch, addressing Willow and the others.

  ‘You fool with your lives. But because you have shared Herne’s journey, I will allow you to leave unharmed. Go from here today, for your eyes are not permitted to see what must take place now.’

  ‘Rannoch,’ shouted Willow, ‘you can’t. Not to Bankfoot.’

  ‘Go,’ cried Rannoch furiously, ‘quickly.’

  There was nothing more to be done. The friends were forced back down the hill, leaving Bankfoot to his fate. As the stags drove them from the valley back in the direction of the Slave Herd, Willow, blind with rage and grief, looked back bitterly at her friend.

  ‘Don’t worry, Willow,’ whispered Birrmagnur next to her. ‘When we are out of sight we’ll wait till dark and try to rescue him.’

  But the reindeer was deeply worried and his eyes showed it.

  By the birch trees, Rannoch was standing next to the stags encircling Bankfoot.

  ‘Lord Herne,’ said Kaal to Rannoch as he watched Willow and the others leave, ‘we must make the sacrifice tonight.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Rannoch, looking gravely at Bankfoot, ‘but make certain the whole herd is at the stones. They must all see how Herne repays unbelievers in blood.’

  Bankfoot’s hoofs were so heavy he could hardly walk as they led him up the hill to the stone circle. The moon’s eerie, mysterious brilliance illuminated the pagan round. Rannoch led the way this time, flanked by his guard and followed by the fawns and the rest of Herne’s Herd. Most of the herd hung back from Rannoch as he entered the round and Bankfoot was thrust forward. As he stepped inside the ring of stone, Bankfoot shivered as he saw the dead fawn still lying there on the ground next to the altar.

  Kaal now entered the circle with the scouts and they each went up to Rannoch in turn and bowed their antlers, dropping berries and fungi from their mouths.

  ‘Herne,’ they cried.

  ‘Herne,’ cried all the stags in the herd, now surrounding the stones; and they dipped their antlers. ‘Lord Herne.’

  ‘Will you feast?’ said Kaal in the circle. Rannoch shook his head.

  Bankfoot was prodded forward roughly and he found himself standing next to the altar. He was flanked by three deer and Kaal. The stags began to sway their antlers, the fawns were led in to dance, the chant swelled. Bankfoot closed his eyes and waited for the blow. The frenzied dancing seemed to go on for ever and by his side Bankfoot could sense Kaal getting ready to strike.

  The dancing reached a fever pitch and Bankfoot braced himself but as it rose to a crescendo, Rannoch let out a terrible bark.

  ‘Enough,’ he cried suddenly. ‘Enough. Herne demands silence.’

  The stags and the fawns stopped moving, transfixed by Rannoch’s voice.

  ‘Herne,’ cried Kaal nervously, ‘what is it? Are you displeased with the sacrifice?’

  Rannoch stamped the ground.

  ‘Yes, Kaal, Herne is displeased,’ he cried furiously. ’Herne is displeased with the sacrifice. With you. With the herd.’

  A su
dden terror gripped the deer.

  ‘Why, Lord? Why have we displeased you?’

  ‘Why?’ cried Rannoch. ‘You ask me why? You who live in superstition and fear. You who believe only in the dark, in death and in violence. You who murder your own fawns and do it in my name. You dare to ask me why?’

  The stags both inside and outside the stone circle began to back away.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ cried Rannoch angrily, ‘until I have taught the Herla a deeper magic than death. Until I have shown you the way of Herne the Healer. You who would sacrifice this young stag in the name of the Lord of Stags, watch and fear me.’

  Rannoch stepped forward, past Bankfoot, to where the dead fawn was lying. He dipped his head and very gently brushed his flank with his antler.

  ‘I who have the power to turn nature back,’ cried Rannoch, ‘I command you to get up.’

  The silence was deafening now, but to Bankfoot’s amazement the little fawn began to twitch. Its flanks shuddered, its head stirred and suddenly it stood up and shook itself.

  The herd gasped and some of the stags dropped to their haunches in fright.

  ‘Now,’ cried Rannoch in a voice that shook like thunder, ‘because you have so displeased me I command you, all of you, be gone from this place never to return. Herne’s Herd is disbanded. The Slave Herds shall be free. Across the High Land the Herla shall roam as they will. Go together and live like Herla, or go separately. But never again take Herne’s name in vain. All of you, out of my sight.’

  They didn’t need to be told twice. The stags began to bellow and, kicking and butting each other, they burst from the stone circle. The stampede had begun. The rest of the herd went scattering across the moor, running for their lives. Only Rannoch, Bankfoot and the fawn were left in the man- made ring. Bankfoot hardly dared stir. He looked at Rannoch and found his legs were pinned to the ground with terror.

  ‘H-h-herne,’ he stammered, closing his eyes again, ‘Herne. Don’t harm me. Now I know it’s all true about the Prophecy. I’m sorry I ever doubted it but if you’ll—’

  But suddenly Bankfoot heard a snort. It rumbled up into a great bellow of laughter.

  ‘Oh, Bankfoot, silly old Bankfoot, don’t you recognize your old friend?’

  Bankfoot opened his eyes in an amazement, even greater than that he had felt at the sight of Herne.

  ‘That’s right, it’s me, Rannoch.’

  Where just before Bankfoot had been staring at the incarnation of a living god, now he was looking at his old friend again.

  ‘But h-h-how?’ gasped Bankfoot. ’The fawn, I saw him die.’

  ‘Not die,’ said Rannoch, smiling, ‘though he was badly stunned when Kaal caught him with his hoofs. That’s why I ordered them all to leave that night. So I could help him. Come on, Ragnur, say hello to Bankfoot.’

  The little fawn trotted up quite happily.

  ‘I saw my real chance when I realized the little one wasn’t dead. Then I really planned to set the fox among them. I’m only sorry I didn’t stop it sooner but with the berries and the ghostly dancing I was caught up too for a while. If Ragnur here hadn’t be so intelligent and helpful I don’t know what I would have done. Together we formed our plan when they had left, didn’t we, Ragnur?’

  Ragnur beamed up at Rannoch.

  ‘I fixed Ragnur up as best I could and then told him to stay by the stones and play dead if anyone came, ready for the next time they wanted to hold a sacrifice.’

  Bankfoot nodded, though he was still amazed.

  ‘First I wanted to get you all away, though, just in case anything went wrong. I couldn’t get a message to you so I had to pretend to order you from the valley, though I’m sorry I had to frighten Willow so badly. But then you nearly spoilt it all,’ chuckled Rannoch, ‘when you blurted out that you’d seen the rite. As it is, though, I think it helped the effect.’

  ‘So. . . so it was all pretence.’

  ‘No, Bankfoot, not all,’ answered Rannoch quietly.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean,’ said Rannoch – and something grave entered his voice – ‘that there was a time when I nearly believed them. When I wanted to believe them.’

  ‘Your eyes, up there on the hill. They terrified me.’

  ‘Yes. But that was mostly the berries and the fungi the Slave Herds have been collecting. They have the power to bring on waking dreams, Bankfoot. It affected all of them. It was only after the first sacrifice, when you thought they’d killed Ragnur, that I shook off its influence and from then on I had the devil of a time pretending to eat it in front of Kaal and the stags. But there was something else, Bankfoot, that was more than the fungi. In that circle, when the fawns were dancing in the moonlight. For a moment I almost thought I was Herne. There was something of Herne there, until. . .’

  Rannoch fell silent.

  ‘Until. . . ?’

  ‘Until they almost killed Ragnur, of course. Then something woke in me and I threw off the visions.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, as I felt the violence of that place, of those stones and the Herla, I remembered a feeling I have had all my life. The feeling I had at the fort and with the wolf. The urge to heal.’

  ‘And Herne?’ Rannoch smiled.

  ‘Theirs is a belief that has thrived here for centuries in the High Land and it’s true what Rurl told me – they did have knowledge of man. It comes from the circle. They learnt the rite of sacrifice from watching man among his stones. But I know that if ever the Herla are to live free in the High Land, or anywhere else in the Great Land, then they must never worship Herne like that.’

  ‘So you . . . ?’

  Rannoch looked carefully at Bankfoot.

  ‘No, Bankfoot,’ he said quietly, ‘I am not Herne. I am a Herla’

  ‘And the Prophecy?’

  Rannoch gazed ahead into the night. A strong breeze was blowing across the High Land into the young deers’ muzzles, but Rannoch didn’t answer. He suddenly felt much older. He stirred in the darkness and as he did so he fancied he had heard something moving beyond the stones.

  ‘Well, I suppose we should t-t-try and find the others,’ said Bankfoot after a while, ‘though they’ll never believe it.’

  ‘Bankfoot,’ said Rannoch quietly, ‘I learnt something else too.’

  ‘W-w-what?’

  ‘It’s about Sgorr. I know where he’s from,’ whispered Rannoch. ‘This was once his herd.’

  Bankfoot looked at Rannoch in astonishment.

  ‘Sgorr’s herd?’

  ‘Yes, but there’s something else, Bankfoot,’ said Rannoch.

  ‘Kaal said it’s to do with an island and something Sgorr hid there long ago. He says Sgorr fears its discovery more than anything else.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Rannoch.’It’s an even darker secret.’

  Part Three -

  18 The Branding

  ‘And the Lord set a mark on Cain.’ Genesis 4, 15

  ‘Alive? What do you mean he’s alive?’

  Narl backed away nervously into the shadows. He had never seen Sgorr so angry. His master was older now and the fur around his muzzle was flecked with grey, which somehow gave a more sinister aspect to the scar across his face.

  ‘It must be him,’ said Narl. ’He’s grown and has his antlers. But that mark on his forehead is just the same. The oak leaf.’

  ‘But how?’ said Sgorr in disbelief.

  ‘The spies weren’t sure. But from what they could learn he was hurt and then rescued,’ said Narl, his voice dropping away to a frightened whisper, ‘by humans.’

  ‘By humans?’ whispered Sgorr. For the first time ever Narl noticed something like fear flicker across Sgorr’s single eye. But it soon passed.

  ‘Yes, then he escaped into the High Land,’ said Narl nervously, ‘with his friends. The ones who got away from the Sgorrla.’

  ‘Am I surrounded by incompetents?’ cried Sgorr. ’Have the guards
along the Great Glen punished. Kill one guard in each garrison.’

  Narl nodded.

  ‘And why did the spies disobey my orders anyway,’ said Sgorr angrily, ‘and enter the High Land?’ Narl dropped his eyes fearfully.

  ‘They thought it best, Lord,’ he answered, ‘when they saw that mark.’

  ‘So he’s alive,’ said Sgorr, looking out into the darkness.

  ‘Well, well. And in the High Land too. At least they’ll know what to do with him there.’

  Narl looked strangely at Sgorr. He didn’t understand what his master meant.

  ‘There’s more,’ Narl went on slowly, testing Sgorr’s responses all the time. ‘I don’t quite understand it, but the spies spoke of a herd. Herne’s Herd they called it.’

  Sgorr swung round suddenly and glared at Narl.

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘You know of them, my lord?’ said Narl with surprise.

  ‘A little,’ said Sgorr, smiling. ‘Go on.’

  ‘They ruled in the High Land.’

  ‘Ruled?’ said Sgorr. ’What do you mean ruled?’

  ‘Well, that’s the part that’s unclear. The spies say Rannoch has overthrown this herd.’

  ‘Overthrown Herne’s Herd?’ cried Sgorr, wheeling round in the night. ‘Impossible. Take me to these spies, quickly.’

  Narl led Sgorr through the darkness. The air was cold for winter was with them and the ground carried a frost that crunched loudly underfoot. The two spies were waiting fearfully for their leader, surrounded by a contingent of the Sgorrla. It had taken them over a year to get back to the home herd for they had got lost in the north and had wandered hopelessly for suns and moons, half terrified of returning to their master. They were two of the stags Rannoch had overheard by the burn and their breath smoked furiously in the darkness.

  ‘You,’ cried Sgorr, as he ran up to one of them and thrust his muzzle straight into the spy’s terrified face, ‘tell me everything you know of Rannoch and Herne’s Herd. Leave nothing out. I warn you, I’ll know if you’re embellishing it just to please me.’

  So the Sgorrla began. He spoke falteringly at first until Sgorr shouted at him and threatened him with the Sgorrla’s antlers. So he went on, describing the chase across the Great Mountain and the meeting with Birrmagnur. But when he came to their journey from the Slave Herd Sgorr stopped him.